


a thousand words

by fourshoesfrank



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Art, Autistic Data (Star Trek), Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Painting, autistic Lal (star trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourshoesfrank/pseuds/fourshoesfrank
Summary: They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Together, Lal and Data have painted entire novels.AU where Lal lives and she really likes painting <3
Relationships: Data & Lal (Star Trek), Lal & Deanna Troi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	a thousand words

A positronic brain made of fine brushstrokes. Bright dots of red paint where a synapse has failed, mellow green blobs where another has been successfully repaired. The blur of a pale yellow-green hand at the top of the frame, tightly clutching a tool. 

_"Father, I believe you've successfully repaired my brain. There is no need to continue."_

_"Please sit still. I am not finished."_

_"There's nothing to finish, Father. I can sense no flaws."_

_"You have not considered the possibility that your ability to perform self-diagnostics has been compromised. I will continue to search for any faults."_

_"...Thank you, Father."_

-

A chair. A crumpled heap of purple satin. A cage with a lonely animal inside. These flat illustrations sit on the canvas, not even a drop of paint marring the careful sketch lines. This painting will be utilitarian, unfeeling, stiff. It only seeks to reproduce what the artist has already seen, experience. Next to it, a more fluid series of graphite pencil lines—an alquiline nose, slicked back hair, a small, unsmiling mouth—form the early stage of a portrait. 

_"Father, may I offer a suggestion?"_

_"Of course. I highly value your artistic input."_

_"Don't draw yourself sitting in the chair like that."_

_"Lal, I am attempting to reproduce my experiences while in Kivas Fajo's custody. Therefore, my likeness must be seated. ...May I ask why you object?"_

_"What is to be the primary subject of this artwork?"_

_"...I do not know yet. However, you have not answered my original query. Why do you object to the image of me, sitting in this chair?"_

_"Because it's wrong! It's not like you! You do not_ submit, you do not—"

_"—I see that you feel strongly about this. May I suggest a compromise?"_

_"Yes, you may."_

_"I will remove the likeness of myself from this painting, and you will paint a portrait of me that you believe truly reflects my nature. Do you find that acceptable?"_

_"Yes, very much so. I will begin the sketch now."_

-

A positronic brain, made of harsher brushstrokes than that of an earlier painting. Instead of neat red and green blips, the entire visible spectrum dances across this particular mechanical mind; perhaps a testament to its disorganized nature, perhaps simply an expression of creativity. Nestled between deep purple lights and electric green wires, a small copper chip. 

_"Father, I fail to understand why I have never been formally introduced to my uncle."_

_"Lore is difficult to contact. I assure you, had the opportunity arisen, I would have arranged a meeting."_

_"Your logs indicate that you do not hold a high opinion of your brother."_

_"Yes, that is true. However, the human value of family is most important, Lal."_

-

Dappled sponge-spots of light in Ten Forward. In the background, pearlescent pink paint glimmers on the bride's dress. In the foreground, a half-sketched half-painted duo stands frozen in a waltz. Father and daughter, positioned in such a way that the viewer cannot ascertain who leads the dance. 

_"Father, you may require motor recalibration. You have stepped on my feet nineteen times in the past ten minutes."_

_"I apologize, Lal, but I cannot anticipate where you intend to place your feet in relation to my own."_

_"Is your visual cortex malfunctioning?"_

_"No, but it is customary to look one's dance partner in the eyes."_

_"This seems counterproductive. It would be more efficient to observe my movements."_

_"That may be true; however, it does deviate from human custom."_

_"Acting in the best interest of one's child is a widely-accepted human value, Father. Please endeavor to stop stepping on my feet."_

_"I see. That is a compelling argument. I will correct this behavior now."_

-

"Lal, these are wonderful!" Counselor Troi exclaims, gesturing to the young android's wall of artwork. She must be able to sense the spark of pleasure that Lal derived from the compliment, because her black Betazoid eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. Lal observes the counselor for four more seconds before she voices the question that prompted this meeting in the first place. 

Well, it's more of a preliminary question. "Counselor Troi, do you find my artistic skills satisfactory?" Lal asks. Her internal temperature rises by 0.19 degrees Celsius as she awaits the counselor's answer. 

"Of course I do! They're very detailed, and each color really stands out." This is true, Lal reflects. She has paid careful attention to the application of color theory in her paintings. Apparently it has paid off. 

Now, for the true question. In an attempt to cool her internal systems, Lal's throat compresses once with a motion that has been designed to mirror a humanoid swallowing. She asks, "Counselor, may I paint a portrait of you?"

Troi smiles gently. "I would love that," she replies. "In fact, I know a few other crew members who have expressed that same desire. It seems you have a reputation as an artist." 

Lal's internal cooling system whirs audibly as it attempts to compensate for her rising body temperature. Praise makes her overheat, which Father believes is her own way of blushing. Lal returns Troi's smile and retrieves her art supplies from their drawer, while the counselor sits down in the chair that Lal moved to the center of the room before she arrived. 

"This may take some time, Counselor. I hope you have made yourself comfortable."

"Yes, absolutely," Troi says, nodding. Her thick hair shakes a bit with the motion, but Lal refrains from mentioning it. Father has often remarked that humans enjoy artwork that appears to capture a true image, rather than an idealized version of someone's likeness. Lal sets up her easel, and begins to sketch Troi's face; large eyes, well-defined eyebrows above them, a straight nose below. She wants to get this exactly right. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos r cool 😎


End file.
